Like I Lived My Life Again
by Ricole
Summary: How do you pick up the pieces of a life you can't remember? Eventual HHr.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** This story was written especially for my friend Kristen, in honor of her 19th birthday. At her request, I posted the story here. As stated in the summary, this story's pairing is Harry/Hermione. Don't like? Don't read!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, and I am not making any money off of this. It's just for fun!

And now, without further ado...

**"Like I Lived My Life Again"**

**Chapter 1**

"_A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor." __Alexander Smith__, Dreanthorp_

Hermione Granger was more tired than she had ever been before in her entire life. She was completely, utterly drained. Coffee had sopped working about twelve hours ago. Even Energy Charms weren't helping anymore – of course, she'd been too tired to even try casting one for about three hours now. Her body ached, and the hard chair she was curled up in was only accentuating the pain. But she could not, _would_ not sleep.

Hermione was the sole guardian watching over Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived and recent savior of the Wizarding world. It had been nearly thirty-six hours since he had defeated Lord Voldemort, and he still hadn't woken up. He was in some sort of coma, and the Healers weren't quite sure what to do for him. Hermione could tell the Healers were worried by the way they urgently whispered and muttered whenever they came in to check on Harry.

A lot of people were celebrating right now, and rightly so. Lord Voldemort was gone for good. But from Hermione's vantage point in Harry's cramped little room in St. Mungo's, things looked pretty bleak. Ron was injured – it wasn't life-threatening, but he would probably limp for the rest of his life. The rest of the Weasleys were down the hall with Ron, minus Ginny and Bill, who were dead. Neville was also dead – he died trying to protect Ginny. Professor Flitwick was dead. Seamus Finnigan was wounded, possibly fatally. The Creevey brothers were dead. Luna Lovegood was severely injured. Lavender Brown was dead. And there were many, many more. And now Harry was wavering on the line between life and death.

Hermione sighed, pushing a strand of disheveled brown hair behind her ear. She didn't like all this sitting. The more she sat, the more the numbness inside of her began to fade. The faces of her fallen comrades were beginning to float through her mind in a sort of morbid parade, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her heart realized the horrible truths her mind already knew.

"Please, Harry," she whispered. "Please come back to us. I can't lose you, too. Not you too. I…I'm not strong enough to lose you…"

The tears began to well in her eyes. For once, she didn't mind. Maybe she needed to cry. She hadn't cried for a long, long time. Over the past year, she had had to be strong, for Harry, for Ron, for everyone. She went through the entire ordeal of the hunt for the Horcruxes without shedding a single tear. But now, here by Harry's hospital bed, with Voldemort defeated and her world crashing down around her, she felt she had earned the right the cry. And so, her small frame shaking and her soft whimpers filling the dim little room, Hermione Granger wept until every ounce of energy still left in her was gone.

**Two Hours Later**

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Hermione woke with a start. She didn't even know that she had dozed off. Blinking her puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she looked at her watch. "Two hours?" she muttered, angry at herself for falling asleep. She looked at Harry. Still no change.

The knock sounded again, and Hermione croaked, "Come in." The door opened slowly, and Mrs. Weasley stepped in. Her eyes looked much like Hermione's.

"Hermione, dear, I--" Mrs. Weasley's voice wavered. She swallowed and began again. "I just wanted to tell you that Ron has been released, so we'll be heading home. It's not that we don't want to be here with Harry, it's just – given the circumstances, we – well, there's arrangements to be made, and Ron will still need some extra help, and--"

Hermione broke in. "Oh, of course, Mrs. Weasley, I understand. I don't blame you one bit, and I'm sure Harry would agree. Don't worry, I'll stay here with him. I'm okay."

Mrs. Weasley looked at Hermione's tear-stained face and the dark circles under her eyes. She sighed. "No, dear, you're not okay. But I know you better than to think I can convince you to leave, even for a little while." At that, Hermione gave a weak smile.

"You'll let me know when…when the services will be?" the young woman asked softly.

"Of course, of course. But if Harry's still here, we'd understand if you couldn't

make it."

"I'll be there anyway," Hermione assured her. "Harry would be mad at me if he knew that I missed Ginny and Bill's fu…that I missed…it…because of him." For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to put "Ginny", "Bill", and "funeral" in the same sentence.

Mrs. Weasley paused, uncertain of what to say. A single tear made its way down her cheek. Hermione felt like she should say something else, but what do you say to a mother who's just lost two of her children? So she said the first thing she thought of: "Tell Ron I said 'get well soon'."

"I will, Hermione. Good-bye, dear."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Bye."

The door closed with a soft _click,_ and the little room was quiet once more. Hermione rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. Her two-hour nap had done nothing to abate her exhaustion, but she refused to sleep any more. She had an ever-present fear that Harry would wake up and she wouldn't be awake to help him if he needed her.

Just then, she thought she heard a soft moan come from Harry's bed. Every fiber of her being strained to see or hear something else, something that would indicate he was coming out of his trance-like state. She was about to give up when—there! His eyelids fluttered, she was sure of it! Her heart leaped. Excitedly, she left her chair and kneeled next to his bed, taking his hand in hers.

"Harry?" she asked hopefully. "Harry, can you hear me?"

A muffled moaning noise came from Harry's throat. His eyes fluttered open again, and this time they stayed halfway open. His lips tried to form a word, but they were too parched. Luckily, Hermione always seemed to know what he needed.

"Do you want water? Is that what you want, Harry?" He nodded his head, just barely. Hermione reached for the water glass next to his bed and brought it slowly to his lips. When he had gotten enough, she returned it to the bedside table. "Better?" she asked, studying his bruised face. Again, he gave the slightest of nods. "Oh, Harry, you had us so worried. I'm so glad you came back to us," she said, voice full of emotion. She was blinking back new tears, but these were tears of relief and happiness.

"W-where…?" Harry managed to whisper.

"You're in St. Mungo's, Harry," Hermione answered. She stroked his hand gently. "You fought Voldemort, remember? But you won, Harry. It's all over. You won. He's gone!"

"Voldemort? Who…?" Harry questioned, his voice slightly stronger.

Hermione stared at him in shock. Her spirits, so recently raised, fell a bit. "What do you mean, 'who'? Harry, what's wrong with you?"

Harry turned his head slightly and stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Then he pulled his hand away from her loving grasp.

"D-do I know you?" he asked, his voice troubled.

Hermione was speechless. "Do you know me? Do you _know_ me? Harry, do you mean you don't recognize me?"

Harry's response was a blank look. Hermione felt like crying once again, but from disappointment this time.

"Harry, it's me, it's Hermione. Hermione Granger. You've been my best friend since we were eleven," she said, her voice choked with frustration and worry.

"I can't be your best friend," Harry said, his brow furrowed. "I don't even know you."

The sting of rejection registered as strongly as if she had been slapped. Hermione sighed. "Harry, do you remember _anything?_"

Harry paused. Then a look of panic entered his eyes. "No, I don't," he said. "What's happened? I can't remember…I don't know…anything!" He looked at her wildly.

"Shhh, Harry, calm down. I'm sure it's some side effect. Remember how I said you fought someone named Voldemort? Well, we aren't quite sure what all he did to you. I'll go get someone to help, okay?" Hermione said, trying to sound like her usual rational and calm self. The only problem was that she hadn't felt like her usual rational and calm self for quite some time.

Hermione hurried into the hallway, looking around for one of the Healers who had checked in on Harry occasionally. She managed to find one, a tall man with white-blonde hair and a rather comical little mustache. He was standing next to a counter, flipping through some papers on a clipboard. Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir…" she began.

He turned to face her. "Ah, Miss Granger. Has there been a change in Mr. Potter's condition?"

"Yes, sir. He woke up, and he spoke to me," Hermione replied. "But he doesn't remember anything. He didn't recognize me, and he doesn't even know who Voldemort is!"

The Healer flinched at the use of Voldemort's name, an old habit that would be hard to break. "Well, I was afraid there may be something like this. Let me have a look at him, and we'll go from there."

Hermione followed the Healer down the hall to Harry's room. Harry had his eyes closed when they entered, and for a second Hermione feared – or was it hoped? – that she had imagined the whole thing. But his eyes opened when the Healer addressed him.

"Hello, Harry, my name is William Johnson. Glad to see you're awake. I'd like to ask you a few questions, check out a few things. All right? Miss Granger, I think it'd be better if you stepped outside for a few moments."

Hermione began to protest, but Healer Johnson refused to let her stay. Reluctantly, she went into the hallway. Leaning against the wall, she collapsed and slid to the ground, resting her arms on her knees and burying her head in her arms. Healers and nurses walked past her, not giving a second look to the heartbroken girl who had recently helped save the world.

So Harry was alive. But he didn't even know her name. Was it permanent? Would he ever recover his memory? And then a darker thought—maybe it was better for Harry if he didn't remember. Then he wouldn't have to live with the pain and the horrible memories and the grief. But no, that was silly. There were so many good things to remember too, like all the trips to Hogsmeade, or lazy evenings by the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Hermione heard footsteps that actually stopped next to her instead of walking past. She looked up to find Healer Johnson, a concerned expression on his face. Standing quickly, Hermione pushed her hair out of her face and tried in vain to read the Healer's expression to see if the news were good or bad.

"Well, Miss Granger, it's obvious that Harry is suffering from amnesia, or memory loss." Hermione nodded; she knew that much. "Now, it's hard to determine whether or not it's permanent because I can't be sure what caused it. Mr. Potter did receive several blows to the head, and if that is the cause, the amnesia will most likely be short-term. But if the memory loss is the result of some curse or combination of curses received during his encounter with You-Know-Who, well then, there's no way to know."

"So…what do we do now?" Hermione asked, trying not to let the implications of Healer Johnson's words sink in.

"Well, physically, Harry seems to be mending nicely. He actually didn't receive too many injuries. Normally we would keep him longer, but I think we'll try to release him in three days, as long as no new conditions appear. The best thing for patients with amnesia is to be surrounded with familiar things, things that may help jog their memory. So here's what I would say. Someone needs to take Mr. Potter to a place that would evoke the most positive memories. Then he will require almost constant care…he will undoubtedly have lots of questions that will need answering. He will also need to come in contact with as many familiar things from his past as possible. Do you know a place that would be good for him?"

Hermione paused. "Well…we were going to take him to the Burrow…that's the Weasleys' home. But I think perhaps Hogwarts might be a better place for him, given what you've said. And it'd probably be better for the Weasleys, too, considering…"

Healer Johnson nodded. "Yes, I think that would be the best, if you can work it out with whomever you'd need to get permission from. Now, do you know someone who can take care of him?" He had a slight smile on his face, but Hermione didn't notice.

"I can do it," Hermione answered quickly, her troubled eyes staring at the closed door to Harry's room. "The Weasleys are—well, you know about that situation. And most anyone else that has been like family to Harry is dead. So I guess that leaves me."

"Yes, Miss Granger, that leaves you. But after seeing the way you've remained at his bedside this whole time, I can't think of a better person for the job."

Hermione was too worried to think about his compliment. "What about visitors? Is it good to have familiar people around, too?" she asked, shifting her gaze back to the Healer.

"Well, yes and no. It just depends. Sometimes patients feel overwhelmed and panicky when they are surrounded by people they're told they know but whom they can't remember at all. It's probably good to go slow, just one or two at a time, and only after some memories of that person have returned, if at all possible."

"And…if his memory doesn't return?"

"Well…we'll cross that bridge when we get there, if that is the case."

Hermione took a deep breath. "One more thing, Healer Johnson. Given Harry's celebrity, I know people are going to want to know what's going on with him. But I don't really think that's the best idea, don't you agree?" she asked, pulling herself up to her full height and trying to look imposing.

"I do agree. Don't worry, we'll make sure that nothing but the barest of details are released to the press. We'll say that Mr. Potter was treated for relatively minor injuries, and then was released to be taken to an undisclosed location for some well-deserved time to recover and grieve in peace."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Healer Johnson."

"No problem, Miss Granger. You may go back in Harry's room now, if you wish. I think he's starting to accept that you really are a friend. Call me if you need any help, or if there's any further change in his condition." With that, Healer Johnson headed down the hallway to check on another patient.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione returned to Harry's room. "Harry?" she asked quietly, shutting the door behind her.

"What's your name again?" Harry asked.

Hermione fought desperately to keep her voice from breaking as she replied, "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"And you say we're friends?"

"Yes, Harry. Do you believe me?"

"I think I do. Mr. Johnson said you've hardly left my side since I was brought here. I guess you wouldn't do that for some person you hardly knew, right?"

"Right. Well, I'm glad you believe me, because it looks like I'm going to be taking care of you after they release you in a few days," Hermione said, moving closer to Harry's bed and putting what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face.

"Don't I have any family to take care of me?"

Hermione froze, her smile fading. Oh boy. How did she answer that?

"Well, Harry…not really. Y-your parents died when you were a baby, and you were raised by your aunt and uncle, but you don't like them very much. Basically, Ron and I are your family. And the rest of the Weasleys, Ron's family, they're pretty much your family, too. And then there was Siri-" Hermione stopped, realizing that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to bring up Sirius right now. She would just have to tell Harry that his godfather was dead, and what good would that do?

"Who's Ron?" Harry asked.

"He's your other best friend. You and Ron and I, we've been practically inseparable all through school," Hermione said slowly, trying not to say anything that would bring up an uncomfortable subject. "And Ron's family, the Weasleys, they love you very much, but they have…uh…an…unfortunate situation right now…so I'm going to be taking care of you."

"What kind of situation?"

Bill and Ginny -- another topic she didn't want to discuss right now. Hermione paused, trying to think of the right words. "Harry, I don't think that now is the best time to talk about this. Why don't we both try to get some rest, and we'll talk some more later? Just wake me up if you need anything."

"All right, Hermione." Harry closed his eyes.

Relieved, Hermione sat in the uncomfortable chair once again. Her mind was whirling, but her exhaustion won out, and she fell into a fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Harry Potter, and I'm still not making any money off this.

**"Like I Lived My Life Again"**

**Chapter 2**

The next morning, Hermione woke before Harry. He seemed to be sleeping pretty soundly, so she slipped out and walked quickly to the ladies' room down the hall. She was almost frightened by the reflection that greeted her when she looked in the mirror above the sink as she washed her hands. Her hair was even bushier than usual, her eyes were red, and her exhaustion was evident in her face. And her eyes now held a new sadness -- a grief that can only come from losing so many friends who were much too young to die, from being left behind to pick up the pieces of a shattered world. Yes, her face still looked young, but her eyes were now much older than her eighteen years. Sighing, she splashed some water on her face and took a shaky breath. Harry needed her; she had to get back.

When she returned to his room, Harry was awake. He greeted her with an adorable smile, and Hermione felt warmth spread throughout her weary body. She returned his smile.

"Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"Better. I was worried when you weren't here, but I'm glad you're back."

Just then, there was a knock on the open door. Hermione turned around and saw Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway. "Professor McGonagall! It's good to see you! Won't you step out into the hallway for a moment?" She took McGonagall's arm and headed out the door. Turning her head, she said to Harry over her shoulder, "I'm going to talk to a friend of mine, Harry; I'll just be a minute." Then she shut the door behind her and turned to face a bewildered Professor McGonagall in the hallway.

"Miss Granger, what is the meaning of this? I wish to speak to Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, her mouth in its usual thin line.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but…Harry's not…himself. He's suffering from amnesia. He doesn't remember anything -- he didn't even know who I was. I'm sorry, it's just…I didn't want you talking to him unless you knew. He doesn't remember Hogwarts, and I'm trying to figure out the best way to tell him about school and magic and Voldemort and everything, but I haven't figured it out yet, and I'm so tired and worried and I really don't want to have to explain all that to him today, so you see why I had to talk to you alone first, and -- " Hermione was rambling now, but she couldn't help it. It felt so good just to tell someone all the frantic thoughts swirling through her exhausted brain.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall interrupted. Hermione fell silent. "I understand, and I think you made the right decision. It would probably be best if I didn't speak with Potter just yet. Now tell me, has someone been appointed to care for him after he is released?"

Hermione nodded. "Me, Professor."

McGonagall's face changed ever so slightly. Hermione studied it carefully. Could that be the traces of a smile? Then McGonagall spoke, and it was gone. "Is there anything I can do to be of assistance, Miss Granger?"

"Actually, yes, Professor. You see, the Healer told me that I should take Harry to the place where he has the most positive memories and surround him with familiar things. Both Healer Johnson and I think that the best place for Harry would be Hogwarts. Could we perhaps have permission to stay there? I know it's summer and students aren't usually there, but we wouldn't need much." Hermione looked at McGonagall hopefully.

"Well, that does seem like the best place for Potter, given the circumstances," McGonagall agreed.

"And…it's important that there not be anyone else there at all. We don't want anyone to tell the press about Harry's condition."

"I will make sure there is absolutely no one in the entire castle. As for Hagrid, he's taking some well-deserved time off after…recent events, so don't worry if he's not there. The elves will be present, but of course they'll stay out of your way. And I assume you will need food." It was a statement, not a question. "I'll arrange for some provisions to be left in the Great Hall. Is there anything else?"

"Well, there is one other thing. We'll need a way to get in the gate and the front door, since we can't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds. I suppose we could Floo there, but if something goes wrong and Harry ends up somewhere else, he probably wouldn't be able to find his way back on his own, given his condition. I thought Side-Along Apparition would work the best. Then I can be sure he arrives with me."

McGonagall looked around to make sure that no one was paying any attention to them. Then, waving her wand, she conjured two heavy black skeleton keys out of the air. "This will open the gate, and this will open the front door. Take good care of them, Miss Granger, and destroy them as soon as you and Potter leave. Understand?"

Hermione nodded. She took the keys and looked at them reverently before slipping them in her jeans pocket next to her wand. "Thank you, Professor. I'm very grateful. And I'm sure Harry would be too, if…"

"Yes, yes, of course," McGonagall said curtly, waving off Hermione's thanks. "Miss Granger, we are all indebted to you and Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. It is the least I can do." She paused and looked closely at Hermione's tired face. "How are you holding up, Hermione?" she asked softly, her voice kind.

Hermione's mind registered Professor McGonagall's use of her first name. She knew that meant the question was asked in a person-to-person manner, and not the usual teacher-to-pupil manner. "I…I'm holding up about as well as anyone else, I guess," she answered truthfully, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "It's better when I'm not thinking about everyone who…" She fell silent, leaving the rest of her statement hanging in the air.

McGonagall nodded. She understood. She, too, had felt the loss of Hermione's classmates. No matter what anyone said or thought about Minerva McGonagall, it was true that underneath her stern exterior, she dearly loved her students. For a few seconds, the two women stood staring at each other, speaking no words, but saying volumes. Each found her own pain reflected in the eyes of the other. One old, one young, both bound by the same feelings…one teacher, one student, suddenly equals.

"Well," McGonagall said, clearing her throat. She looked to be on the verge of tears, but her face was as stern as ever. "I'll make the necessary arrangements. Please give my best regards to Harry, whenever he remembers who I am."

Hermione blinked back her own tears. "Yes, of course. Thank you for coming by, Professor."

McGonagall turned on her heel and walked briskly down the hall. Hermione watched her go, then returned to Harry's room. She didn't feel like smiling, but she put on a bright smile for his sake.

"Who was that?" Harry asked.

"A friend of mine. A…a mentor, really. Her name is Minerva McGonagall," Hermione replied, hoping her voice sounded natural. That was the truth…sort of.

Harry nodded. "That's an unusual name," he remarked, more to himself than to Hermione.

"So, Harry, what do you want to do today? Shall I read to you? I can get a book if I Appar—if I run home and get one. Would you like that?" Hermione asked brightly. Silently, she added, _Please, Harry, I don't want to talk about anything today. I'm not ready yet. I have to think of the right way to say it all…_

"I guess that'd be fine," Harry replied.

"Great! Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be back, okay?" Hermione said. She left Harry's room and made her way down the hall, out of St. Mungo's, and out onto the street. She ducked into an alley, made sure no one was looking, and Apparated to her family's house. Almost as soon as she realized she was there, she heard a woman screaming. It was then that she realized why it hadn't been a good idea to come to her house. She hadn't been home for over a year--not since they started on their quest for the Horcruxes. Before she knew it, her mother was engulfing her in a huge hug and weeping. Great. She didn't want to blow off her mum, but she had to get back to Harry.

"Hermione, Hermione Jane, oh it's you, it's really you! We hadn't heard from you in awhile, and we were getting so worried. Oh, honey, is it over, whatever it was that you had to go do? Is that why you're back? Oh, please tell me it's over!"

Hermione carefully disengaged herself from her mother's arms. "Yes, Mum, it's over, and we won. But Harry's in hospital, and he needs me. I just came here to get some books to take back to read to him. I'm sorry I can't stay longer. But see, I'm okay, and I promise I'll visit much, much longer when we get Harry back to normal. Okay?"

Mrs. Granger's face fell. "But Hermione…you don't even have a little time for your parents?"

"I'm so, so sorry, Mum. But you see, Harry needs someone to take care of him right now, and I'm the only one who can do it. Ron's been injured, and he doesn't have the patience anyway. And two of his siblings were killed in the battle, so I can't really ask his parents to take Harry in on top of that. Most of the other people who have been like Harry's family are dead, and we can't send him back to his aunt and uncle. So it has to be me. But I promise it's almost over now. I just have to care for Harry for awhile. You understand, don't you?"

Mrs. Granger nodded. "I suppose. You're a very good friend, Hermione. I'm proud of you. But, dear, you look terrible. You have to take care of yourself, too, all right?"

"Yes, Mum, all right. I'm going to go get some books, and then I'll be on my way, all right?" Hermione climbed the stairs to her room and picked a few well-worn and much loved volumes off one of her many bookshelves. Then she went back downstairs to kiss her mother good-bye.

"By the way, Hermione, how did you get here?" Mrs. Granger asked, a confused look on her face.

"I Apparated," Hermione said casually. "Bye, Mum, love you!" And she was gone.

Mrs. Granger stared at the spot where her daughter had just been standing. She blinked her eyes in disbelief, wondering if she were going crazy. But no, there were footprints in the rug where Hermione had been standing. She shook her head. One of these days, she was going to get used to having a witch for a daughter.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Back in Harry's room, Hermione let Harry choose a book and then settled into the chair next to his bed and began to read. Several hours passed in this pleasant manner. For a second, if she ignored the hospital room, she could almost imagine that things were normal. She could almost imagine that she and Harry were passing a happy evening in front of a fire somewhere, like the Gryffindor Common Room, or perhaps their very own house—Hermione blushed at that thought. Where had that come from? She pushed the thought from her mind. _My nerves and exhaustion must be getting to me,_ she told herself.

**Two Days Later**

Ginny and Bill's funeral was held the same day that Harry was to be released from the hospital. Hermione was going to take him to Hogwarts after she got back from the service. That meant she could no longer put off the discussion about magic and Hogwarts.

Luckily, Harry seemed to trust her more with each passing day. That was good, because Hermione was going to sound completely crazy when she told Harry that he was a wizard. She decided that she would have to demonstrate some magic for him to prove that she really was a witch, and that she wasn't making it all up, and then just hope that he wouldn't freak out.

The funeral was simple, but meaningful to all who had known Ginny and Bill. Hermione didn't feel comfortable sitting up on the front row with the Weasleys, so she sat in the back corner by herself, hoping to avoid attention. Throughout the service, she just sat in silence, feeling too overwhelmed to cry. Bill…brave, courageous… Ginny…her fellow girl among the guys. They had both been so young, so full of life. It wasn't fair. And poor Fleur, a widow after only a year…her silvery hair seemed out of place in the row of redheads, but it was obvious that she was no longer an outsider in the family. Hermione was glad that Fleur would have the love and support of her in-laws, the other people who knew and loved Bill the best.

After the service was over, Hermione managed to get Ron by himself for a few moments. She invited him to come visit them at Hogwarts sometime soon if he felt up to it. Then, quietly and unobtrusively, she slipped away.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Now, back in Harry's hospital room, Hermione knew she couldn't avoid it any longer. At her suggestion, the nurses and Healers had kept everything magical away from Harry during the past two days, so he wouldn't ask questions before Hermione was ready to answer them. But it was time to tell Harry that he was a wizard…one of the most famous wizards of all time, in fact. She just hoped he would believe it.

Harry was sitting upright, his legs over the side of the bed. He was dressed in some of the clothes that Hermione had packed for him during a brief stop at the Burrow the previous day. All of their school things had been left at the Burrow during their quest, so at least that had made packing for the two of them relatively simple. Of course, convincing Mrs. Weasley that Hogwarts was the best place for Harry hadn't been quite as simple. Hermione had had to explain everything: Harry's memory loss, the need to be in the place where he had spent the most time, why it was better not to have so many people around, and why it would be a tremendous mental strain on the grieving Weasley family to care for him in this state. And of course her trump card, which was that Healer Johnson had agreed that Hogwarts was the best place for Harry. Since Mrs. Weasley wanted what was best for Harry, she had reluctantly agreed, but she made Hermione promise to bring him to the Burrow as soon as he recovered.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said brightly, bringing Hermione's mind back to the present. "I can't wait to get out of here. Mr. Johnson told me that we could leave as soon as you got back. I already signed whatever papers I had to sign." Harry paused, studying her face for a moment. "Hermione, are you all right? You look like something's upset you."

"I'm fine, Harry, don't worry. I just…never mind," Hermione said quickly. She couldn't help but realize the irony of the moment. Harry would probably be grieving for Ginny and Bill even more than she was, especially since Ginny was his girlfriend before they left. Hermione had never asked, but she had always assumed that he still liked her. And here he was, smiling and asking her what was wrong. It was bizarre.

"Well, okay. So can we go?" Harry asked eagerly.

"No, Harry, not just yet. Soon, very soon, I promise. But there's something I have to talk to you about first." Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm going to take you back to our school, Hogwarts. It…it's a boarding school…for magical people." She paused and waited to see Harry's reaction. He just stared at her. "You see, Harry, I know you don't remember, but you're…well, you're a wizard. A very good one, too."

"Excuse me?" There it was. There, on Harry's face, was the look Hermione had been dreading. The look that clearly said: _I'm talking to a crazy woman!_

Hermione stooped and opened one of the three small bags she had packed for them, lifting out his wand and handing it to him. He took it, but looked at it and then her with an incredulous expression on his face.

"That," Hermione declared, "is your wand. The Healers gave it to me for safekeeping after you were brought here." She pulled her own wand out of her pocket. "I have one too, see? I can do magic. I'm a witch, even though my parents are Muggles—that is, non-magical people."

"But…I thought I'd always been told there's no such thing as magic," Harry said slowly.

"Well, your aunt and uncle told you that when you were little, I'm sure. Are you remembering them at all?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Not really," Harry shrugged.

Hermione sighed. "Well, never mind. There _is_ such a thing as magic, Harry, and you can do it. Here, would you like me to show you?"

Harry nodded. Hermione took off her watch and placed it on the bedside table. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," she said, pointing her wand at the watch. Under her control, it began to float higher and higher in the air. She looked at Harry to gauge his reaction. He was staring at the flying watch, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Now watch this," she said, and she proceeded to use non-verbal spells to transfigure the watch into a pencil, then back into a watch. Then she held out her hand and let the watch fall into it.

"So you're…a witch, and that's why you can do that." Harry was still staring at the watch, now resting in Hermione's palm.

Hermione nodded. "Yep. And you can do that too, you just don't remember how at the moment. But is that enough of a demonstration for right now? Do you believe me?"

Harry paused, thinking. "I think so. C-can I try that thing you did when you made the watch fly? Or is that too advanced to try first thing? I want to see that I can do it…"

"Sure, I guess. Point your wand at the watch, there you go. Now repeat after me, '_Wingardium Leviosa_!'"

"_Wingardium Leviosa,_" Harry said. The watch didn't budge. Hermione tried not to let herself think of what the great Harry Potter had come to.

After two more unsuccessful attempts, Hermione was about to tell Harry that he hadn't been able to get that charm to work right away when they learned it the first time around, and that he shouldn't be discouraged, when Harry tried one more time. The watch slowly began floating into the air.

"Look, Hermione, look! I got it!" Harry said excitedly.

"Wonderful, Harry," Hermione said with a smile. "Surely now you believe me?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "Yeah. It still seems weird, but I don't think I can argue with a flying watch."

"Well then, Harry, you said you already signed everything you need to sign?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, all done," Harry replied.

"Well then, if you can grab the biggest bag, I'll get the other two, and we'll be on our way," Hermione instructed. She led him out of St. Mungo's and into the alley where she'd found she could Apparate without being seen.

"How are we getting to this…Hogwarts, was it?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Hogwarts. We're going to Apparate. I know you don't remember how, so I'm going to use Side-Along Apparition, and you're going to come with me. Basically, I need you to hold on to that bag and, more importantly, hold on to me. Okay? Apparition feels weird, but it won't take that long."

Harry nodded solemnly and grabbed her arm.

"Ready?" Hermione asked, with one last check to make sure there were no Muggles in sight.

"Ready."

"Here we go…"

OoOoOoOoOoO

Next thing Harry knew, he was standing in front of a big gate. Behind the gate was a huge castle. He blinked his eyes, not believing what he was seeing.

"Okay, now I really know you're a witch. We just…we were just there, and now we're…wow," Harry said. "Is this our school?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed, eyes shining. "Oh Harry, we're home. At last, we're home."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Harry Potter.

**"Like I Lived My Life Again"**

**Chapter 3**

Walking through the front door of Hogwarts was nearly overwhelming for Hermione. After everything she had been through, it was wonderful to see that the school she loved so much was almost exactly as she had left it. Hogwarts was one part of her wizarding life that wasn't in shambles.

Hermione turned to Harry to see his reaction. He seemed to be deep in thought. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Well, Harry?"

"It…it's like I'm trying to remember something…and I almost do…and then it slips away," Harry said with a sigh. "Well, at any rate, it does feel…familiar. So that's something, right?"

Hermione felt her heart leap just a little. "Yes, that's something," she said, trying not to get her hopes up but not succeeding. "Well, shall I take you on a tour?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, I'd like that."

Hermione led him into the Great Hall, pointing out the bewitched ceiling. Harry had the strangest feeling as Hermione was talking about the ceiling…it was almost as if he had heard her say all this before…only not this Hermione, but rather a much shorter, much younger Hermione. But almost as soon as he tried to concentrate on what exactly he was thinking, the feeling was gone.

Professor McGonagall had obviously been true to her word, because there was a pile of food and other provisions in one corner. It looked like enough to feed them for almost a month.

They continued on their tour, going through some classrooms, the library, and finally heading up to the Gryffindor common room. One of the staircases decided to move while they were on it, succeeding in scaring Harry half to death while Hermione laughed. Harry also stared with wonder at the moving paintings, reminding Hermione what it was like to see Hogwarts through fresh eyes. She'd almost forgotten how unique it was.

The Fat Lady was dozing when they arrived at the portrait hole, and she didn't look too happy to see them.

"What are you doing here? School isn't in session, students aren't supposed to be here."

"Well, we have permission to be here for awhile. Harry is recovering from his battle with Voldemort. So if you don't mind, we'd like to get in the common room. Okay?" Hermione said, her voice very business-like.

The Fat Lady obediently swung open. She was too tired to argue with Hermione Granger right now. "Students in July…what is this world coming to?" she muttered as she dozed off again.

OoOoOoOoOoO

The common room was dark. Hermione flicked her wand at the fireplace and a roaring fire started up. Harry looked around, taking in the plush chairs and welcoming atmosphere. He had that same look on his face again, the one he'd had when they first came through the front door. Hermione hoped that was a good sign.

"So, here we are. The Gryffindor common room. We spent many, many hours here," Hermione said fondly, setting down the bags she was carrying and sitting in one of the plush chairs by the fire. Harry followed suit, sitting in the chair across from her.

"Gryffindor…what does that mean?" Harry asked. Hermione proceeded to explain the House system, and what each House stood for. Harry seemed pleased that their House was the one characterized by bravery and courage.

"Well, Harry, do you want me to read a bit more? I brought my books," Hermione offered. She wanted to distract him from asking about Hogwarts, feeling that he'd had enough to take in for one day.

"Sure, I guess," Harry responded. Hermione pulled a book out of one of the bags by her feet, opened to where they left off, and began reading.

After awhile, Harry's eyelids began to droop. Hermione noticed, and placing the bookmark in, shut the book and stood up. "C'mon, Harry, I see you're tired. Let's grab these bags and head up to bed." Harry readily obeyed.

Hermione led the way up to the room Harry had shared with the other boys in his year. Once again she lit the previously darkened room with a flick of her wand. "This was your room, Harry, you and the other guys in our year," she said, setting the bags down on one of the beds. "That was your bed, if you want to sleep in it," she added, motioning to one of the four posters.

Harry sat on the bed and looked around. Hermione perched herself on one of the other beds, trying not the think about the fact that one of the students who had slept in here so many years was now dead, and another was still in St. Mungo's. "I hope you don't mind if I sleep in here. I thought it'd be good in case you need something in the middle of the night," she said. Harry just nodded in consent. "Anyway, I'll go to another room to change. I'll knock before I come back in, okay? Your pajamas are in that bag over there." With a gesture at the mentioned bag, Hermione swept out of the room, carrying her own pajamas.

Harry couldn't help but marvel about how Hermione always seemed to be in control. He wondered if she had always taken care of him, which would explain why she was so good at it. _I wish I could remember,_ Harry thought. For the first time, he felt a genuine longing for the memories he'd lost. Sighing, he walked over to the bag Hermione had indicated, found some pajamas, and changed.

Hermione's knock came shortly after Harry had returned to his bed and crawled under the covers. "Yeah, Hermione, you can come in," he called. The door opened and Hermione entered. Harry was startled to see how exhausted she looked. Why hadn't he noticed before?

"Good-night, Harry," she said as she climbed into one of the unoccupied beds. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to wake me up, all right?"

"Yeah, okay. 'Night, Hermione," Harry responded.

Hermione flicked her wand one more time, and the room was dark once more. With the dark covering her, she turned her face into her pillow and quietly, silently, she cried the tears that she had been unable to shed at the funeral. It was so hard to feel all this sadness and not be able to share it with anyone. Harry was the one person she wanted the most to be able to talk to, to share memories of their friends, to find comfort in shared grief…and he was the person from which she had to hide the very feelings she most wanted to share. And then, of course, there was the added fear that was constantly lurking in the back of her mind…_what if his memory never returns?_

OoOoOoOoOoO

The morning sun had been shining in the windows for a long time, but Hermione was still sound asleep. Harry had been awake for about an hour. His stomach was growling, but he wasn't sure if he should venture out on his own in search of food--the moving staircases were still fresh in his mind. Hermione had said that he could wake her if he needed anything, but he couldn't do it. She looked so peaceful, and he couldn't help but remember how exhausted she had appeared last night. She probably needed to sleep.

Harry wasn't sure why, but he found himself climbing out of bed, putting on his glasses, and crossing the room to where Hermione was sleeping. Sitting on the floor by the head of her bed, he curiously studied her face. Who was this girl? What had they shared in the past? What had they gone through together? They must have been very close to justify her taking care of him like this. And he couldn't put his finger on it, but there seemed to be something that was bothering her, something that was making her sad. What losses had she suffered? And if there were losses that she had suffered, what losses had _he_ suffered?

He wanted to remember. He wanted so desperately to remember. He _needed_ to remember. He needed to know who he was.

Harry leaned a little closer, staring intently at Hermione's face. He had the strange feeling that if he could understand just who she was and who she had been, he would be a little closer to discovering who he was. He tried to remember the face of that much shorter, much younger Hermione he had seen for a brief moment yesterday in the Great Hall. Just when he thought he had it, the Hermione in front of him opened her eyes and bolted out of bed with a little yelp, startling him.

"Oh my—oh, Harry, it's just you. You frightened me," Hermione said, her voice slightly higher than usual. She was breathing hard.

"Sorry, Hermione. I didn't want to wake you. I thought maybe you needed sleep more than I needed food."

"No, it's okay. I guess I'm just used to constantly being on guard, from the past year and the whole sear—from…ah, oh, never mind," Hermione finished lamely. She really didn't want to talk about the search for the Horcruxes…not before breakfast, at any rate. "What were you doing sitting there, anyway?" she asked, hoping to divert his attention from her unfinished sentence.

"Just watching you," Harry said with a shrug. "Anyway, now that you're up, I'm really hungry. But I didn't want to try to find food on my own, not with those bloody staircases swinging around as they please."

Hermione smiled. "All right. I'll go get dressed, and then I'll help you brave the staircases."

"Are you mocking me, Hermione?" Harry asked playfully, raising his eyebrows.

"No, of course not," she replied, in a voice that clearly meant the opposite. _He looks so adorable with his hair sticking up all over the place like that…it's even messier than usual,_ she thought. Then another voice in her head immediately replied, _Where did that come from? You got over Harry two years ago. Don't go down that road again, Hermione...it will only lead to disappointment. You know you're not the kind of girl he'd fancy. _To keep Harry from seeing the blush that was surely creeping up her face, Hermione quickly pulled some clothes out one of the bags and left to go change.

They made it to the Great Hall without any major incidents. The ceiling showed what a lovely day it was outside. Hermione decided that they should definitely take a tour of the grounds after breakfast.

"This is the Gryffindor table," Hermione explained, taking a seat at the front of one of the four long tables and setting her breakfast down in front of her. "Wow. It feels weird to be the only two people in here," she remarked off-handedly as she took a sip of juice.

Harry sat across from her. He looked around the room as he ate his toast, trying to imagine the tables filled with laughing, talking students. He could almost hear their voices echoing throughout the cavernous hall. He could almost see…a stool, at the front, with older people behind it…people in funny, pointed hats. He could almost see that much shorter, much younger Hermione sitting on the stool, putting something on her head…

Hermione noticed the strange look on his face. "Harry? What is it?" she asked, concerned.

"I…I think I may remember something…" Harry began.

Hermione looked at him excitedly. "Well, go on. Tell me about it!"

"Well, I thought I saw a stool. And…and there were people behind it, older people, with funny hats on. And then you…well, not you, but a younger version of you…you sat on the stool and put something on your head and…and that's all." He looked at her questioningly.

"Oh Harry, I'm so glad. You remembered something from our days here at Hogwarts. You remembered our Sorting ceremony!" Hermione said, hardly able to contain her excitement. "When new students are brought to Hogwarts, they have to be Sorted into their Houses. All the First Years are brought to the front to sit on a stool, and they put on the Sorting Hat, and the Hat decides what House they should be in."

"So…so this is good, right? I remembered something, sort of."

"Yes, Harry, that's very good." Hermione smiled, her eyes were shining with happiness and…was that relief?

They finished breakfast in companionable silence. When they were done, Hermione suggested that they take a walk around the grounds. They made their way to Hagrid's hut and the edge of the Forbidden Forest, to the greenhouses, and finally to the lake. They sat in the grass near the lake's edge and enjoyed the light breeze that played across their faces and through their hair.

"Tell me, Hermione, how did we meet?" Harry asked, playing with a blade of grass that he had plucked from the ground.

Hermione clasped her arms around her knees and looked up at the clouds. "Well, let's see. We first met on the train to Hogwarts. I was helping Neville look for his toad." She paused and chuckled at the memory. Soon, however, the happy memory was tinged with the sobering knowledge that Neville was no longer living. She pushed that thought away and continued her story. "Anyway, I came into the compartment that you and Ron were in, and I started bossing you around. I was always good at that," she added with a wry smile, turning her gaze to Harry, who laughed softly. "I told you all about Hogwarts, because of course I'd read all about it. I read about everything. I'd even read about you, so of course--"

"Wait, wait. You'd read about me?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes. You, Harry Potter, are quite famous. You're the Boy Who Lived." Hermione sighed, trying to decide how much she should say about Voldemort. "See, there was this evil wizard named Voldemort. Remember I said that's the one you fought before you lost your memory?"

Harry nodded. Hermione continued, "Well, he was evil. Terrible. And he came to your house when you were only a baby, and tried to use the Killing Curse on you. He killed both of your parents, but you survived, and somehow, Voldemort lost his powers. You're the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse, Harry. But years later, Voldemort came back, and that's why you had to finish him off once and for all. Which brings us to now. But you've always been famous in the Wizarding world."

Harry tried to digest all of the information that Hermione had just given him. "O..okay. Okay. All right, so back to the other story you were telling me."

"So, of course I was excited to meet you. But we weren't really friends yet. You and Ron—Ron mainly, but you, too—thought I was an annoying know-it-all. Which I guess I was." She laughed again and returned her gaze skyward.

"So how did we become friends?" Harry prompted when she didn't continue.

"Well, later that year, I was in the bathroom crying because I overheard Ron saying something mean about me. It was Halloween. A troll got loose in the castle…well, it was set loose in the castle, but no matter, a troll was loose. You saw that it was headed toward the bathroom I was in, and you remembered that I was in there, so you and Ron came to my rescue. We managed to take the troll down, which was a pretty impressive feat for three First Years. And then when the teachers came, I took the blame. I figured I owed it to you. And after that, the three of us were friends, and over time, we became the best of friends. We did almost everything together. I used to think that the three of us could do anything." Hermione looked at Harry. He was staring at the ground, pulling up more blades of grass.

"So Ron and I never regretted saving you from that troll?" Harry asked with a teasing grin, raising his gaze to meet hers.

Hermione gave him a playful shove. "I don't know if you did or not. Most of the time, no, I don't think you did. I know I helped you on your homework a lot, so I'm sure you guys didn't mind that. And we did have a lot of fun times together." She had a dreamy look in her eyes. Her mind was somewhere in the past, living for a moment in happier days. Harry wished he could join her. But there was no past for him, just the present. And he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something terribly wrong with the present, something that had disrupted their happy lives. _Maybe it has something to do with this Voldemort fellow,_ Harry thought. _But…didn't Hermione say that we won?_

"Tell me more, Hermione. Tell me about the good times we had together, you and me and Ron."

Hermione looked startled for a second when he spoke, like she'd forgotten where she was. But she recovered quickly and smiled at him. "All right. Let's see..."

The hours passed as swiftly as the clouds tumbling playfully overhead, and soon the noon sun was beating down on them. Hermione told Harry story after story of fun times at Hogwarts, enjoying reliving the memories of when life wasn't quite so complicated. Harry, however, was troubled. While he was enjoying the stories, he was growing more and more frustrated with his inability to remember the people and events Hermione described.

Hermione had started to notice that as she talked, Harry grew quieter and more introspective. Not wanting to upset him, she decided to suggest that they head back up to the castle for lunch. Just before the words left her mouth, however, Harry asked one of the questions that Hermione had been hoping to avoid for as long as possible.

"Hermione…when I was here…did I have…a girlfriend?" Harry asked the question hesitantly, almost as if he were embarrassed.

The smile froze on Hermione's face. The girlfriend question. Oh, great. She had successfully avoided having to tell Harry that any of their friends were dead. But if she told Harry about Ginny…he'd certainly ask why someone as close to him as a girlfriend hadn't visited him, or offered to help take care of him. And then she'd have to tell him that the girlfriend he didn't remember was dead. And then he'd probably ask how she'd died. And who knows where that would go…

"Yes." Hermione stood up abruptly. "C'mon, Harry, I'm hungry, and it's getting hot. Let's go eat lunch."

Harry could sense her suddenly cold attitude, and her noticed that her answer was uncharacteristically curt. That made him curious. So he'd had a girlfriend…but Hermione didn't want to talk about it. What was the story there?

Hermione was now walking briskly away from him. For the time being, he decided to let it drop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Harry Potter.

**"Like I Lived My Life Again"**

**Chapter 4**

At breakfast the next morning, Harry was reacquainted with the Wizarding mail system. Ron's little owl swooped into the Great Hall and dropped a small piece of parchment in Hermione's hair. She laughed and unrolled the message.

"What does it say?" Harry asked, trying to read the words through the parchment. He gave up and waited for Hermione to tell him.

"Ron's coming to visit us today," Hermione said happily, rolling the parchment up again and setting it on the table. "He says we're supposed to meet him down by the gate at ten o'clock and let him in. What time is it now? Quarter after nine? Good, we'll have plenty of time to finish breakfast before we head down there."

Harry was pleased to hear the news, but his stomach did a little flip nonetheless. He was a bit nervous about meeting this other best friend that he still didn't remember.

At a quarter to ten, they trekked down the grounds in the pleasant midmorning air. When they were about fifteen feet from the front gate, Hermione stopped and sat down in the grass, holding the keys McGonagall had given her securely in her hand. Harry stood next to her. His apprehension was growing as time crawled on, but he tried his best to conceal his nerves from Hermione.

At 10:02, they heard a loud cracking sound. Hermione stood up quickly and began walking the short distance that still remained between her and the gate. Harry remained where he was, as if rooted to the spot. He could see a tall redhead smiling at them from the other side of the gate. The newcomer was holding a long, skinny object wrapped in brown paper.

"You've gotta be impressed that I remembered I couldn't Apparate into the grounds themselves, Hermione," Ron said good-naturedly.

"Sure, after the twenty or so times I told you," Hermione laughed, unlocking the gate. As Ron passed through, she leaned close and whispered, "Don't mention Ginny or Bill yet, or that any of our classmates are dead. He still doesn't remember any of it."

Ron nodded. As Hermione closed the gate and locked it again, Ron walked toward Harry, his new battle-earned limp slowing his pace considerably. Ron held the long package out in front of him. "I brought you something, mate," he said with a smile as he closed the gap between himself and his disoriented friend. Harry didn't reply. He was too busy staring at Ron, trying to decide if he remembered the face at all. Ron felt slightly disconcerted, but he didn't miss a beat. "I hope Hermione told you about me. I'm Ron Weasley."

Now Harry nodded. "Yes, yes. She told me about you. She told me the three of us are best friends."

"Right, but you've always liked me better," Ron joked.

"Hey!" Hermione protested as she joined the two young men.

"Well, if you didn't like me better before, you'll like me better now, thanks to what's in this package." Ron held the strange-looking wrapped object out to Harry again. This time, Harry took it.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"What else could it be, with a shape like that? It's your Firebolt, of course," Ron said. When there was no reaction at all out of Harry, Ron turned to Hermione with a questioning look.

"_He doesn't remember,"_ Hermione mouthed.

"_You haven't told him about Quidditch yet?" _Ron mouthed back, appalled. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry hadn't noticed this little exchange because he had been busy tearing the paper off the Firebolt. Now he was staring at the broomstick, a strange expression on his face. Ron cleared his throat, and Harry tore his gaze away from the object in his hands to look at him.

"Well, mate, it comes to my attention that Hermione hasn't talked to you about Quidditch yet," Ron said.

Harry shook his head.

"I'll have to do it, then. Which is probably better, because Hermione's not exactly a Quidditch expert, anyway," Ron said, motioning for Harry to turn around and putting an arm around his shoulders. Ron then started walking up to the castle, taking Harry with him. Hermione noticed that when Ron was leaning on Harry, his limp was much less noticeable. She walked a little behind them, enjoying the sight of her two boys together at Hogwarts once more.

Ron chattered away about Quidditch the whole way up to the Gryffindor common room, explaining the game and telling story after story about legendary matches. Harry listened raptly, especially to the stories Ron told about matches they'd played in, or times when Harry's brilliant Seeking ability had saved the day.

They took their usual places in the plush chairs, the Firebolt occupying the couch. As Hermione sat near the fire and listened to Ron and Harry talk about Quidditch, things almost felt normal. Almost.

The topic finally turned to other aspects of life at Hogwarts. Ron told Harry about some of the professors, making Harry laugh with his descriptions. Even Hermione joined in when Ron got to Professor Trelawney. They were laughing as they made their way down to the Great Hall to eat lunch.

As they ate, Harry reflected on the fact that though Ron was laughing and joking, he also seemed to be plagued by whatever it was that was making Hermione sad. Harry was almost sure now that something terrible had happened to both of them. That almost certainly meant that he, Harry, had been affected by it too. He was torn between not wanting to ruin the nice time they were having and wanting to know what had happened. In the end, he decided not to broach the subject. He didn't want to admit it, but even though he felt he had the right to know, he wasn't sure he was quite ready yet.

After lunch, Ron challenged Harry to a game of Wizard's chess. Of course, Ron had to explain that game too, but Harry caught on quickly. He was delighted with the moving pieces. Hermione watched, as she had done so many times before. She could hardly believe that less than a week ago, they had been helping Harry defeat the most evil wizard of all time…and now they were playing chess. It seemed surreal.

Ron easily won. Hermione had helped Harry occasionally, but as Harry had just been reintroduced to the game and Hermione had never been very good, they were no match for Ron's skill.

"Don't worry though, mate. You usually lost to me anyway, even when you'd had years of experience," Ron assured Harry with a grin, giving him a cheerful pat on the back. Then, his face and tone growing serious, he continued, "Well, this has been nice, but I have to be heading back. Mum is worried because I 'still tire easily,' as she says, and she'll be mad if I'm not home soon."

Harry and Hermione accompanied him back to the gate and let him out. With a wave, he Apparated and was gone. Hermione closed the gate after him and locked it. Then she turned to face Harry.

"So, Harry, what did you think of Ron?" she asked with a smile.

"He was funny," Harry said slowly, gathering his thoughts. "And…and he seems familiar. When he was telling me all those things we used to do together…and when we were playing chess…it was like I _almost_ remembered it. But then I didn't know if I really remembered anything, or if I just pictured what I thought were memories based on what Ron was telling me." Harry rubbed his eyes, as if trying to clear his head. "It was so…so _frustrating._ I wanted to remember…to remember the people we used to be. And I—I couldn't…I couldn't, Hermione! I don't know who I am! I don't want to live through other people's memories forever!" His voice was getting steadily louder, until he was yelling.

Hermione could see that he was finally getting angry about his condition. Knowing Harry as she did, she was actually surprised that it had taken him this long. "You won't have to, Harry. You're going to get better, I know it." Somehow, saying it out loud made it easier to believe.

"You can't know that, Hermione. Not for sure." Harry's face was stony.

Rather than respond to Harry's gloomy sentiments, Hermione linked her arm through his and began walking. He didn't resist, but he said, "Hermione, where are we going? This isn't the way to the castle."

"I know. We're going to the lake. What you need right now is a nice walk around the lake," Hermione responded cheerfully. Harry looked down at their linked arms, his anger fading. A suspicion that had been prowling in his mind since the previous day began to grow a little more.

They walked around the lake at a comfortable, leisurely pace. Harry did begin to feel much better, much more relaxed. Hermione had been right again. He marveled at her ability to understand him. And then a strange thing happened. As he turned his head to look at the remarkable young woman next to him, she was once again replaced by a shorter, younger Hermione—but it wasn't the same one he had seen before. This one was a mid-size, somewhat younger Hermione. And somewhere in his mind, the mid-size, somewhat younger Hermione was listening to a mid-size, somewhat younger Harry talk about something…something important. And there was something about…toast? But just as he was trying to grasp what he was remembering, it was gone. Regular, fully-grown Hermione was once again walking beside him.

"H-Hermione?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Yes, Harry?" Hermione replied, turning her head in his direction. The afternoon sun glinted off her face and hair, enveloping her in a reddish-golden haze.

The questioning look she gave him made him realize he was staring at her. He cleared his throat and started talking. "Is it possible that you and I took walks around this lake before, when we were younger? I feel like we did…and there was a time when we were talking about something really important and…and something about…toast?" It sounded ridiculous as he said it, but thankfully, Hermione didn't laugh.

"Oh Harry," she said happily. "You may be remembering several years ago, when you and Ron had a fight, and I came and got you and we took a walk around the lake and talked over all sorts of things."

"And the toast?"

Hermione smiled. "I brought you toast from the Great Hall for breakfast. I didn't think you'd feel like going down and being with all those people. You were pretty upset."

"What…what did Ron and I fight about?" Harry asked.

Hermione paused. How much detail should she go into about the TriWizard Tournament? "Well, um…there was this contest, and people our age weren't supposed to enter. But your name was drawn to compete. You didn't put your name in the drawing, but Ron didn't believe you. He thought you wanted fame and glory…of course, you already had that, whether you wanted it or not."

"So who did put my name in?"

"A…an enemy," Hermione said, hoping that answer would be enough to satisfy his curiosity.

"And Ron didn't believe me that I didn't do it?"

"No. Well, most people didn't believe you, Harry."

"Except you." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I believed you."

"Thank you," Harry said softly, after a brief pause.

"No problem," Hermione whispered. Why was she close to tears? She blinked them back furiously, hoping Harry wouldn't notice.

They walked in silence for a little longer, lost in thought. Then they made their way back to the castle for dinner. After another pleasant evening spent by the fire in the Gryffindor common room—they had almost finished the book Hermione had been reading to Harry—they headed up to bed.

"Good-night, Harry," Hermione said with a yawn as she climbed into the four poster that she had adopted.

"Good-night," Harry returned, settling himself into his own bed. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep…

_All of Harry's nerves were on edge; his blood was pulsing through his veins. He could only watch in terror as some dark figure cursed Hermione and she fell to the ground._

"_HERMIONE!" he cried. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He had to know that she wasn't dead._

_There was some other boy who was saying something about a pulse. A pulse…a pulse would be good, that would mean she was alive._

"_Harry! Harry!" cried an urgent voice, from somewhere. It sounded like…Hermione? But it couldn't be. Hermione had collapsed on the floor in front of him and was frighteningly lifeless at the moment. _

_There was a hand shaking his shoulder…there was…_

Harry opened his eyes and saw…Hermione.

Hermione's concerned face was staring down at him. Hermione's warm hand was on his shoulder. Hermione was looking decidedly alive. But then what had he just seen? It had seemed so real…

"Harry? Are you all right?" Hermione asked, her eyes troubled.

"Y-yeah. I think so. I—what just happened?" Harry asked, still trying to shake the feelings of terror and panic that had so recently filled his mind.

"I don't know, Harry. I was asleep, and then I heard you yell my name. It was frightening, really. You sounded positively terrified," Hermione replied.

"I—I guess I was dreaming. But it seemed so real…"

Hermione perched herself on the edge of Harry's bed. "Tell me about it, Harry. Maybe you were remembering something. What did you see?"

"Well, we were somewhere very strange. I don't know where…but it wasn't here, I know. And there was some figure…I couldn't make it out, but I knew that it was someone evil. And he…he cursed you. And you fell to the floor…and it looked like you were dead. I thought you were dead. And I was so scared…I heard someone saying something about a pulse…and then I woke up." Harry blinked his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

Hermione appeared to be in deep thought. "Well, Harry, I can't be sure…but I think you remembered something from our fifth year at Hogwarts. It…we were at the Department of Mysteries, at the Ministry of Magic. There were Death Eaters—those are Voldemort's minions—and we fought and—and one of them cursed me. It was pretty bad, but I came out of it all right in the end."

Harry didn't look satisfied. "Hermione…why where we in this Department of…of Mysteries?" He looked to her for confirmation that he'd gotten the name right.

Oh boy. "W-well, Harry…we thought we needed to rescue someone."

"Did we rescue them?"

"No. No, we didn't. He wasn't there, after all. He didn't need rescuing." Hermione picked at an imaginary ball of lint on the sheets, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"So you nearly got killed over someone that didn't need rescuing?"

"Well…yes." Hermione sighed. "It wasn't exactly…we didn't…well, it's not something that we talked about much." Truth be told, it wasn't something that she wanted to talk about now. "Look, Harry, why don't you try to go back to sleep?" she asked, hoping to end the conversation.

Harry murmured something inaudible. Hermione leaned closer. "Harry, I couldn't understand you. What was that?"

"How many more of those kinds of memories do I have?" Harry asked, just loud enough for her to hear.

_Too many,_ Hermione thought. But instead she said, "Well…more than some people, Harry. But don't worry about that one right now. I'm all right, see? I don't even have any side effects from that curse. And I'm right here, in case you remember something else that troubles you."

Harry noticed her skilled diplomacy. She had managed to say "I'll be here in case you have another nightmare and you're scared," without saying it in such a way as to make him feel like a little kid. She was nursing his ego, he knew, but he appreciated it.

"Thank you," he said for the second time that day. And he meant it, with everything he had.

Hermione patted his shoulder reassuringly and gave him a subdued smile. Then she returned to her bed. She felt a torrent of emotions fighting for prominence in her mind. While she was relieved that Harry seemed to be remembering more things, she had hated seeing the look in his eyes as he remembered that fateful day in the Department of Mysteries. And he hadn't even remembered the worst part, the part about Sirius dying. And so many of his memories, especially from the last year, were just as bad, if not worse. She had no choice but to watch as he remembered it all, reliving all the pain, reopening too many old wounds, and feeling the pain from new wounds that he'd barely received before he lost his memory. It was going to be hard, Hermione knew. But she would be there for him. She would be strong for him, as she always had.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a nagging little voice reminded her that she herself was grieving and her mental state was not what it usually was. The voice told her that she wasn't strong enough to handle both her own pain and Harry's.

Well, maybe that was true. But she was sure going to try.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Guess what? I didn't magically inherit the rights to Harry Potter. So I guess that means I still don't own it. Oh, and I'm still not making any money off this, either.

**"Like I Lived My Life Again"**

**Chapter 5**

The previous night's events were not discussed by Harry and Hermione the next morning. Breakfast was a bit awkward, as they both felt the strain of avoiding the topic that most occupied their minds. But as the meal wore on and each gratefully realized that the other was not going to bring up the subject, the awkwardness slowly dissolved.

After breakfast, Hermione suggested that Harry take his Firebolt down to the Quidditch pitch and try flying for a bit. Harry readily agreed.

"Are you going to fly too?" he asked as he stood and took a step away from the table.

Hermione laughed. "Goodness, no. I don't like flying very much. But I'll show you how, if you need any help." She tried not to think of the irony of _her_ showing _Harry_ how to fly. It would be comical, if it weren't for the tragedy of the events surrounding them.

Harry shrugged. "You sure you don't mind just sitting and watching me? That sounds pretty boring."

"Oh no, I like watching you fly." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Hermione could feel herself blushing violently. Harry grinned at her in a way that made her blush even more. She cleared her throat. "Uh…let's go up to the common room and get your broom, shall we?"

"Sounds good to me," he replied, heading out of the Great Hall. Hermione followed, relieved.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Wow," Harry breathed as he walked out to the center of the Quidditch pitch. He turned slowly in a circle, taking in the seats surrounding the pitch and the hoops at either end. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could almost hear the distant echoes of fans' fervent cheers.

Hermione smiled as she watched him. She wanted to know what was going through his mind, but she decided not to disturb him. Instead, she looked around and remembered the countless games she had watched from the stands. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Were they ever so young and innocent that something like a Quidditch game was so important to them?

"So, Hermione, is there anything important I should know before I try to fly?" Harry asked, drawing Hermione back to the present.

Hermione gave him a brief explanation of flying basics. (After all, she remembered flying lessons as well as any other lessons…she just happened to hate flying.) When she was finished, Harry mounted his broom tentatively and pushed off from the ground. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. Carefully, he began to fly forward, then up, then back down.

"I'm going to go sit in the stands, Harry. Feel free to fly as long as you want. It's a nice day; I'm just going to enjoy sitting outside," Hermione said. As she made her way to the stands, Harry began flying to one end of the Quidditch pitch.

_Perhaps riding a broom is like riding a bicycle. They say you don't forget that, after all,_ Hermione mused as she watched Harry from the stands, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Flying seemed to be coming back to Harry rather quickly, while nothing else had. Within twenty minutes, he was flying confidently. After forty minutes, he was acting almost like the insanely talented Seeker he used to be.

Almost an hour after he had started, Harry flew over to where Hermione was sitting in the stands. He dismounted with a grin, his eyes shining. He then sat down next to her and sighed contentedly.

"You certainly look like you remember how to fly," Hermione said, turning to look at him.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "After I started, it came back to me."

"Well, I'm glad. You always did love flying," Hermione replied. "Do you remember playing Quidditch at all?"

Harry paused, his brow furrowed. "Maybe," he answered. "Again, I don't know if I actually remember these stands packed with cheering fans, and me chasing after the Snitch…or if I can just imagine it." He shrugged. "One thing I do remember, however, is the feeling of freedom that comes with flying."

"For you, maybe. I seem to remember feeling fear and anxiety when I flew," Hermione laughed. Then she stood up and stretched. "Well, Harry, have you had enough flying for now? Or are you going back out there?"

"I've had enough for now," Harry decided. "Let's go back to the castle."

They headed back to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione picked up the book they'd been reading together. "We're almost done, Harry. Do you want me to read the last two chapters?" she asked as she settled into her usual chair.

"Sure," Harry agreed, sitting in the chair across from her.

Hermione opened the book, cleared her throat, and began to read. At first, Harry seemed content. But as time wore on, his manner began to change. It was little things that Hermione noticed at first…the way he pressed his lips together…the troubled look that replaced the spark his eyes had held when he was flying. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, and he slouched in his chair. By the time Hermione finished the last sentence of the novel, it was obvious that Harry was brooding over something. She sighed as she closed the book.

"Harry?"

His eyes were focused on the floor. He didn't look up.

"Harry, look at me," Hermione said quietly. He obeyed, but reluctantly. "What's wrong, Harry? What's bothering you?"

"It's time that I…I need to know…some of the things you won't tell me," Harry said. His eyes were now locked on hers, his gaze intense. "I need to know about Voldemort."

Hermione maintained eye contact, but her voice faltered. "Voldemort, Harry? Are you sure you're ready…we don't have to talk about that yet, it's rather--"

"I need to know," Harry said simply. "What did he do? How did we defeat him? And…and why, if we won, is everyone so sad?"

"Everyone is sad? What do you mean, Harry? You haven't really had contact with very many people," Hermione pointed out, hoping to misdirect him a bit.

"Well, okay, you and Ron. Why are you and Ron sad all the time? What happened that you're not telling me? If it involves you, it involves me. Don't you think I have a right to know?"

"Well, yes, Harry. If you really think you're ready," Hermione said uncertainly.

"I'm ready," he replied, trying to sound confident and failing miserably.

If Hermione noticed his fear, she didn't comment on it. Instead, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. Then, in a quiet, even voice, she began to tell Harry about his encounters with Voldemort, beginning with their first year. She kept the details as sparse as possible, and omitted as many other people as possible. Finally, she explained about Horcruxes and their year-long search to find and destroy them, culminating in Harry's final defeat of Lord Voldemort.

Harry stared pensively at the floor as Hermione's voice filled the air around him, weaving through his brain and creating its own kind of spell. At last, she fell silent. She leaned back into her chair, emotionally drained.

"Did I really do all that?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Harry. You really did all that, and more," Hermione replied, her own voice soft. "And you survived. Voldemort is gone, and you're not. You can…you can live now, Harry, without his shadow hanging over you."

"Yeah, well, did I really survive?" Harry asked, his voice growing louder. Hermione could see his anger surfacing again. "I mean, it seems like that Harry Potter is dead. The Harry Potter that could do all those things…Voldemort killed him after all, didn't he?" He gave a bitter laugh.

"Harry, what--"

"Don't you see, Hermione? I'm a completely different person. I can't do any of that anymore. I don't even remember doing it! I may be living, but I can't remember my own life! The Harry Potter you knew might as well have died." Harry stood up and faced the fireplace.

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. Now she was mad, too. She stood up and marched over to Harry, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face her. "Don't you _dare_ say that, Harry Potter!"

"And why not, Hermione?" Harry demanded, anger bubbling beneath his words. "It's true, and you should just accept that." He began to turn away from her again, but her arm caught his.

"DON'T turn away from me, Harry," she said fiercely. "Don't you ever turn away from me." She took a step forward, closing the distance between them to mere inches. Adjusting for the height difference, she tilted her head up slightly and looked him directly in the eye. They engaged in a sort of stare-down for an indeterminable amount of time. Then, never breaking eye contact, Hermione spoke. "Harry, listen to me. You may not remember how to do the things you used to be able to do. I firmly believe that you will remember, in time--"

"C'mon, Hermione, you _don't_ know that, so stop acting like you do!" Harry yelled. His breathing was labored.

Hermione was not daunted. "Do _not_ interrupt me!" she yelled back. Then, dropping her voice, she continued. "All right, so you don't remember how to do fancy magic tricks anymore. So what? 'The Harry Potter I knew,' as you described yourself, was not just a bunch of fancy magic tricks, and he wasn't just a famous name or a handsome face. That's how some people saw him, people who didn't know him. But never, NEVER, was that the Harry Potter I knew. The Harry Potter I knew was my brave, trustworthy, kind, and self-sacrificing friend. And Voldemort didn't—couldn't—take that from you!"

"Even so, I…I may never be the same person I used to be, Hermione," Harry said. His anger was subsiding, and now he sounded regretful. He dropped his head and stared at the floor.

"No one is the same, Harry," Hermione said emphatically. "Do you hear me? We've all changed because of this. But that doesn't mean Voldemort might as well have killed us!" Hermione paused. Then, with a sigh, she placed a hand under Harry's chin and forced him to meet her gaze once more. When she spoke again, her voice had a much softer tone. "You don't realize just how glad we are to have you here with us, Harry. We had all given so much…and for awhile they weren't sure if you were going to live. Did you know that? I sat in that room of yours for almost two days straight, afraid that here at the end, after we'd won, after everything we'd survived, I was going to lose you, after all. And the thought nearly destroyed me, Harry, and so many others who love you. Don't you _ever_ say that Voldemort might as well have killed you. I—I can't—just the thought…" Hermione drew a shuddery breath, on the verge of tears.

Harry was silent for a moment, trying to imagine what Hermione must have gone through, what everyone must have gone through. No wonder Hermione and Ron were sad. "I—I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean that. I'm just so frustrated, I…"

Hermione flung her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. "I know, Harry. It's okay to be angry. Just don't give up, okay?"

"I won't," Harry replied, his voice muffled by her hair.

"It's also okay to be scared, Harry," Hermione said quietly into his shoulder. She ended the hug and stepped back to study his face.

"I'm not--" Harry began to protest.

"It's just me, Harry. You don't have to be a hero right now. I know you must be scared."

Harry sighed. How did she know everything? "It's just…the 'what-ifs'…I don't like thinking about them," he confessed.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, those can be rather frightening."

There was a tense pause in which time seemed to stand still. Finally, Harry broke the silence. "Hermione?" He asked, tentatively.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think…maybe…you could start teaching me some more spells? Maybe the more I re-learn, the more I'll remember. And if that's not true…well, I'll need to start somewhere if I want to be able to do magic again, right?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course, Harry. We can start right now, if you want."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I'd like that."

Hermione pulled out her wand, and Harry followed suit. "Now then," Hermione began. "We already covered _Wingardium Leviosa _at St. Mungo's. Let me think of some more spells we learned in our first year; those should be pretty easy for you to re-learn."

And so the lessons began. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and one of the most powerful wizards of all time, was being taught beginning-level spells. Hermione threw herself into the lessons so she wouldn't have to think about the how sad the situation was.

Harry was a much better student the second time around than he had been in his Hogwarts days. Hermione hoped it was because somewhere in the back of his brain, he still remembered magic. Perhaps that was why he had accepted most of what he had been told about the Wizarding world almost without question.

By the time they took a break for lunch, Harry had re-learned almost all of the spells they had learned during their first year. Harry's mood was greatly improved, and as a result, Hermione was in a better mood as well. After they finished eating, they headed back up to the common room to continue the lessons, at Harry's request. Soon, the setting sun's rays were slanting in through the windows, painting the room red-orange. And then, the sun set completely. And still the lessons continued…

**Several Hours Later**

"You're making wonderful progress, Harry," Hermione said. "Why don't we call it a night?" Harry really had made remarkable progress. He sometimes got upset when a certain spell gave him trouble, and Hermione had had to repair a few things that he had broken, either accidentally or out of frustration. But on the whole, he was catching on very well.

And he didn't want to stop. At Hermione's suggestion to quit for the day, Harry shook his head stubbornly. "Not until I get this Summoning Charm. I've almost got it, I can feel it."

"That one was particularly hard for you the first time around, Harry. I don't know if you'll be able to get it as easily as some of the others we've gone over today."

"No, I'm going to get it," Harry insisted.

Hermione could see he was determined. She sighed. "All right, Harry. Watch me again. _Accio!"_ A pillow from the couch flew across the room and landed at Hermione's feet. "You've got to think about what you're trying to Summon."

Harry nodded. He pointed his wand at another pillow on the couch. "_Accio!_" he cried. The pillow didn't budge. He tried again. And again. After twenty more unsuccessful attempts, he was finally able to Summon the pillow.

"That's it, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. She looked tired, but Harry could tell she was pleased. Suddenly, as Harry looked to her for approval, he once again saw that mid-size, somewhat younger Hermione. The mid-size, somewhat younger Hermione had the exact same expression as regular Hermione had had. And it seemed to him…that she had been doing the same thing…teaching mid-size, somewhat younger Harry the Summoning Charm.

"Hermione," Harry began, "have we done this before?"

"Done what before, Harry?"

"This…you teaching me the Summoning Charm," Harry clarified.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Remember that contest I told you that you competed in? The one that Ron was mad about? Well, you needed to know the Summoning Charm for that, and as I said, it was particularly difficult for you. So we stayed up all night and I taught you how to do it. You finally got it. I guess it's kind of ironic, how we're doing it again…just like three years ago...hmm." She paused, a thoughtful look on her face.

Harry sank into one of the plush chairs, rather pleased with himself. "So, what was this contest? What did we compete in? Who was my competition?"

Hermione sat in the chair across from him, stifling a yawn. She was very tired, but as Harry showed no signs of wanting to go to sleep, she began to explain the TriWizard Tournament. When she was describing Viktor Krum, however, Harry heard a strange voice in his head—a gruff voice. _"I vont to know what there is between you and Herm-own-ninny,"_ the voice said. Somehow—he wasn't sure how—he knew the voice belonged to Viktor Krum.

"He was a famous Quidditch player, and he--" Hermione was saying.

"And he called you 'Herm-own-ninny,'" Harry interrupted with a chuckle. Hermione stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "What?" Harry demanded. "He did, didn't he? I think it's funny."

"I never told you that, Harry. You just remembered something else!" Hermione said happily.

"Really?" Harry was pleased. "Well, go on. Finish telling me about the Tournament."

Hermione continued, but Harry found that he wasn't fully concentrating on her words. He couldn't stop thinking about his newly-recovered memory of Viktor's words. It seemed like Viktor had been jealous of his and Hermione's relationship. The suspicion that had been lurking in the back of Harry's mind was now becoming a full-blown theory. The only memories he had fully recovered involved Hermione…Hermione had believed him when no one else had, not even Ron…Viktor had been jealous of him…Hermione had clammed up when he had asked her if he'd had a girlfriend. _Of course,_ Harry thought, _she wouldn't want me to feel forced back into a relationship with her. She wanted to wait until I remembered for myself! _

He was feeling very pleased with his deducing. In fact, he was so confident with his theory that he decided to bring it up when Hermione finished talking about the TriWizard Tournament. "Hermione, I think I figured something out," he began. "The other day, when I asked you if I had a girlfriend, and you didn't want to talk about it?"

"Yes?" Hermione asked tersely. Obviously, she still didn't want to talk about it.

"Well, I think I know why. It's because _you_ were my girlfriend, isn't it." It wasn't even a question, he was so sure of himself.

"No, Harry."

"No, that's not why? Or…or no, you weren't my girlfriend?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"No, I was not your girlfriend, nor was I ever your girlfriend." _Not that I didn't want to be for a long time,_ Hermione added in her head.

So his brilliant theory was wrong? "Well, if you weren't my girlfriend, who was? Why won't you tell me?"

"Do we have to talk about this now, Harry? It's late..." Hermione said, sounding annoyed.

"Yes, we have to talk about this now. I want to know," Harry demanded.

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Your first girlfriend was a girl named Cho Chang, but that didn't last long. It wasn't really a relationship. Your first real girlfriend was Ginny Weasley. Ron's little sister. Happy now? Can we go to bed?"

"Did we break up or something? Why hasn't she visited me?" Harry asked.

"Well, you did break up, but only because you were going to leave to search for the Horcruxes." _Here it comes,_ Hermione thought. _I won't be able to avoid it, it'll be a direct question…_

"Well then, why hasn't she visited me? Why didn't she come with Ron?"

_And there it is._ "Because she's dead." It came out a lot harsher than she had intended.

"Oh," was all Harry said.

Hermione sighed. "That's where I went that morning before you were released from St. Mungo's. I was at the funeral for Ginny and her brother Bill. They were both killed in the…well, you know, in the conflict, the whole Voldemort thing. I—I didn't want to tell you because…well, because I wasn't sure how you'd feel…knowing you were supposed to be grieving for a girlfriend you couldn't even remember. Maybe it wasn't the right decision, I don't know. But no matter, you know now. Are you all right?"

Harry's mind was whirling. He didn't know what to make of what he'd just learned. He had obviously liked this girl very much, if she had been his girlfriend…and she was dead. He should feel grief, or anger, or loss. But he didn't feel anything—_couldn't _feel anything—because he couldn't even remember the girl he'd lost. He dropped his head into his hands, frustration growing once again.

Hermione walked over to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Harry. Let's go to bed. You need to sleep."

Wordlessly, Harry stood and followed Hermione up to the bedroom. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, feeling numb. At Hermione's knock on the door, he called, "Yeah, Hermione, come in." Hermione's pajama-clad form appeared in the doorway. But instead of climbing into her own bed after placing her clothes in her bag, she crossed the room and stood at Harry's bedside.

"Harry," she began, "if…if you want to talk about Ginny…I'll tell you anything you want to know. I'm sorry I was so short with you before."

"I'm tired, Hermione," Harry said, turning away from her.

"All right. Well, when you're ready to talk, let me know," Hermione said softly, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. Then she returned to her bed.

Neither of them slept very well that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** You guessed it: I still don't own Harry Potter.

**"Like I Lived My Life Again"**

**Chapter 6**

Breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair. Both Harry and Hermione were lost in their own thoughts. However, when they were almost finished with the meal, their musings were interrupted by the arrival of Ron's little owl. This time, the parchment landed on top of Harry's half-eaten toast. He unrolled it and quickly scanned the message.

"Ron's coming to visit again today," Harry said. "He wants us to meet him down at the gate at ten o' clock like before."

Hermione nodded, checking her watch. "Well, it's almost ten now. We'd better head down."

They wordlessly made their way to the place where they had waited for Ron before, and Hermione once again took a seat on the grass while Harry stood next to her. This time, Harry wasn't nervous about meeting their redheaded friend. His mind was solely occupied with thoughts of the previous night's fateful conversation.

When they heard the tell-tale _crack_, Hermione stood up and went to unlock the gate for Ron. Harry stayed where he was, trying to fix a pleasant smile on his face. Ron, who wasn't the most observant guy, seemed convinced. "Hey, mate, you're looking better today," he said with a grin.

The trio walked up to the castle, Harry and Hermione purposely slowing their pace to make Ron less self-conscious. They headed up to the common room and took their seats by the fireplace. By this time, Ron finally noticed that something was different. Harry and Hermione were very subdued, and the air was filled with tension. Never one to bother much with tact, Ron blurted out, "Okay, what's going on?"

"What?" Harry and Hermione said together, sounding slightly defensive.

"Something's weird. You guys are acting funny. What's going on?" Ron repeated, looking from Harry to Hermione and back again.

Hermione looked at Harry, silently asking permission. Harry nodded. Hermione took a breath and said, "Harry and I had a conversation last night, and…well, we talked about, among other things…Ginny."

Ron sobered instantly. "Oh, really?" He paused. "Well, mate, do you want me to tell you about her?"

When Harry didn't answer, Hermione spoke for him. "I told Harry we could talk whenever he's ready. He didn't want to talk much last night. Harry, do you…?" Hermione let her question hang in the air.

"I'm ready. I want to talk about Ginny…and our other friends…everything," Harry said quietly.

It was a painful but necessary process for Ron and Hermione. They needed to talk about their friends, many of whom had paid the ultimate price, in order to come to terms with their loss. Hermione felt great relief in releasing emotions that she had been keeping bottled up for Harry's sake.

As for Harry, he seemed to be listening stoically to their words, but his mind was in turmoil. He found images and feelings swirling through his mind, on a sort of carousel that was spinning out of control. But slowly, as his friends continued talking, he found that more and more images were cementing themselves in his brain long enough for him see them. And each image, each memory fragment, began to attach itself to other images and fragments in his brain, until some sense finally began to emerge from it all. Eventually, he found himself occasionally jumping into Ron and Hermione's conversation, speaking of some tidbit that had finally arranged itself in his brain. But this only led to more conflicting emotions. On one hand, he was happy to be remembering more things and relieved that he finally seemed to be heading toward recovery. But on the other hand, each face he remembered, each little endearing quirk he recalled…they all pierced his heart with pain and regret, as he realized that he would never see that face again.

Ron did have some good news, though. Luna Lovegood had been released from St. Mungo's and was on the mend. This, at least, sparked a mainly upbeat conversation, because the three grieving friends could share memories of the offbeat but loveable Ravenclaw without having to face the devastating knowledge that she was gone. Seamus Finnigan, however, had not been as lucky as Luna.

And so, while the morning slowly died, three extraordinary young people shared and grieved and laughed through teary eyes. They didn't feel hunger, even though lunchtime came and went. The afternoon wore on, until finally, at a loss for anything else to say, they fell silent.

Hermione never could tell how long they sat there, emotionally drained, grieving for people and times that were now gone. But as the sun splashed reddish rays across the room, she knew that healing could finally begin for her.

Ron finally broke the silence. He stood and announced in a tired voice, "Well, I have to get back to the Burrow soon, or else Mum will give me one of her patented scoldings."

Hermione gave him a watery smile. "Yes, well, we don't want that, do we?"

Harry and Hermione walked to the gate with Ron, and Hermione let him out. Ron flashed them a toned-down version of his usual grin before he disappeared. Hermione closed and locked the gate, and then she and Harry headed back. The return journey to the castle was just as silent as the trip to the gate had been. However, upon reaching the common room, Harry announced that he would like to be alone for awhile.

"Of course, Harry," Hermione said softly. She embraced him briefly, then stared helplessly at his back as he disappeared up the stairs to go to the bedroom. With a sigh, she flung herself on the couch. A tear escaped her eye and trickled down her cheek. She didn't try to wipe it away.

**Five Hours Later**

Hermione rubbed her eyes in confusion. Sitting up on the couch she still occupied, she blinked in the near-darkness of the common room. The fire had died sometime…she hadn't even noticed. She must have dozed off. She was trying to remember what had roused her when she heard her stomach grumble. That must have been it—hunger. She suddenly realized that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and pale moonlight was now streaming in the window.

Yawning, Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered, _"Lumos."_ Using her lighted wand to guide her, she made her way to the Great Hall for some food. She transfigured an orange into a basket with a few flicks of her wand, and then filled the basket with enough food for two people, figuring that Harry probably hadn't been down to eat, either. Then she headed back to the common room and up to the bedroom.

"Yeah?" Harry answered gruffly when Hermione knocked.

Hermione opened the door slowly. "Harry? Are you hungry? I've brought some food," she said softly.

There was a pause. Then Harry's voice spoke out of the darkness. "Yeah, okay."

Hermione stepped into the dark room and held her wand up, searching the room for Harry. She found him sitting on his bed, his arms wrapped around his knees. Quietly, she made her way across the room.

"Have you had anything to eat since breakfast?" Hermione asked as she sat next to Harry on the bed, setting the food down in front of her. She placed her wand next to them on the bed, liking the soft lighting it gave. She could see Harry's face without it being too bright.

"No, I haven't been down at all," Harry said, taking a piece of bread and biting into it.

"Me neither," Hermione said, taking a piece of meat. "I didn't even notice I was hungry until just now." Harry nodded in agreement.

The room was silent except for the sounds of their munching. When they had finished, Hermione decided to try to begin a conversation. She wanted desperately to know what was going on in Harry's mind right now.

"Harry…"she began. "What…how are you feeling?"

"I remember," Harry said simply.

"You remember what, Harry?" Hermione prompted.

"Everything."

"What?"

"Everything, Hermione, it's all coming back. I remember the Dursleys, I remember the letters, I remember Hagrid and Diagon Alley. I remember the Chamber of Secrets and the Polyjuice Potion. I remember…Sirius…" Harry's voice broke. Hermione put a reassuring arm around his shoulders. He took a deep breath and began again. "I remember the Tournament, and th--the graveyard…Cedric…" Harry had to pause to collect himself again. "I remember the Department of Mysteries…and Cho, and then Ginny…I remember…Dumbledore…the Horcruxes…I remember--"

Hermione heard a strangled noise come from Harry's throat, and she realized that he was crying. "Shhh," she comforted, "shh, Harry…it's all right. It's all right…" She pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder, stroking his hair soothingly. Finally, his sobs began to subside. "How…how did it happen, Harry? How did you remember everything?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice.

"I just…as I was sitting there, and you and Ron were talking…I started seeing little images, flashes of things. The same as I've seen occasionally...the same I started seeing when Ron was here before. Only this time…there were more of them. And they finally…they finally _stayed_…they didn't leave as soon as I thought about it. And everything I remembered started leading to something else, and before I knew it, everything was pouring through my brain, and I couldn't stop it…and…it was like I lived my entire life again, in a few hours…except it wasn't in order." Harry fell silent.

"Oh Harry," sighed Hermione. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. But…but we should be glad that you've regained your memory. We don't have to worry anymore."

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah, I know. But right now, it's hard for me to think of that. I'm just so…" He sighed, unable to find the right word.

"Maybe talking about everything triggered it," Hermione suggested. "Maybe…maybe you could have remembered sooner if I had talked about it with you. I…I just thought that it would be better if I…I'm sorry if it wasn't the right decision."

"Well, we can't know for sure why my memory returned today. But even so…you did make the right decision, Hermione. I…I wouldn't have been ready before."

Hermione leaned her head down on top of Harry's, which was still resting against her shoulder. They remained like that for a long time, taking comfort in each other's presence. Eventually, Hermione noticed that Harry had fallen asleep. Carefully, gently, she laid him down on his bed, clearing away the remains of their late dinner. Rather than disturb him to turn down the covers, she got a blanket from one of the empty beds and draped it over him. Leaning down, she placed a light kiss on his forehead and removed his glasses.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered, ever so quietly. "Thank you for coming back to us."

OoOoOoOoOoO

When Harry woke the next morning, Hermione was already awake and keeping watch at his bedside, just as she had those painful days in St. Mungo's. She offered him a sweet smile as he blinked his eyes and yawned.

"Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"Better," was all Harry said. He looked around, and knowing what he wanted, Hermione handed him his glasses. As he put them on, he made eye contact with her, and what she saw in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat. Finally, Harry was really, _truly_ there, behind those eyes. He was finally back. His eyes held the same sadness, the same evidence of a heavy burden that she'd seen in her own eyes that morning in the mirror. He knew; he understood; he _remembered._ And though she hated to see him in pain, for the first time since Voldemort's defeat, she somehow knew that everything was going to be all right.

OoOoOoOoOoO

That afternoon, they took another walk around the lake. After two times around, Hermione suggested that they sit for a bit and enjoy the nice day. After they had situated themselves in the grass, she decided to broach a subject that needed to be discussed sooner rather than later.

"So, Harry…what now?" she asked. "Well, we have to go to the Burrow for a bit. Mrs. Weasley made me promise. And I have to go home to see my parents. But after that…what are you going to do now?"

Harry sighed and threw a pebble into the lake, watching the resulting ripples spread out across the water. "I don't know, Hermione," he said, keeping his gaze on the water. "But…but I do know one thing for sure."

When he didn't continue, Hermione prompted, "And what is that, Harry?"

"Whatever I do…whatever my future is…it has to involve you." He finally turned his gaze to meet hers.

"Well, of course, Harry, we're best friends. I'll always be there for you," Hermione said.

"No, Hermione, that's not what I mean."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't understand."

"I mean…well, Hermione, I've been doing a lot of thinking, last night and today. And…I've come to the conclusion that I've been stupid. I chased after Cho, even though we really had nothing in common except Quidditch. And then Ginny…well, we had fun for awhile. But it was an escape, a diversion. She was…I mean, I still care for her…and I miss her. But she wasn't my soulmate or anything like that, I realize that now, when I look back on everything at once." Harry threw another pebble into the lake. "And I realized…all this time, there's always been one person I could count on. One person who _always_ stood by my side, no matter what, and one person who wasn't afraid to stand up to me when I was wrong. One person who has been my partner, my equal. And that one person who has always been there in the past…is the one person I most want by my side in the future."

Hermione could feel tears welling up in her eyes. _Am I dreaming? _she thought, slightly dazed.

Harry picked up a large pebble, but instead of throwing it into the lake, he pulled out his wand and transfigured it into a beautiful red rose. Watching him do magic effortlessly once again made Hermione almost ache with happiness. "That one person, Hermione, is you," Harry said simply, turning his gaze to her once more and handing her the rose. Her hands shook as she accepted it. "I fancied Cho. I really liked Ginny. But Hermione…I _love_ you."

"Oh Harry," Hermione cried, her tears completely blurring her vision. "I…you've no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that. I never thought…I mean, it was obvious I wasn't the kind of girl you…But Harry, I don't want this to be…this isn't because I've been here taking care of you, is it? You're grieving and slightly overwhelmed and I'm here and you don't want to lose me and I understand that. But you won't lose me, ever. You don't have to…I just…I need this to be real, Harry, I…"

Harry reached out and put a finger over her lips, silencing her. "This _is_ real, Hermione. I can't believe I didn't see it until now. When I was re-living everything, when I could step back and see my whole life…I couldn't believe it took me this long to figure it out. It's always been you, Hermione, ever since we were eleven. I've always needed you, but I've finally realized just how much I _want _you by my side."

"Oh Harry…"

"I know that we still have a long way to go, grieving and healing and everything. I know we have a lot to sort through—especially me. But Hermione, would you be willing to give me a chance, even though I've been an idiot all these years?"

Hermione managed to blink back her tears long enough to look at Harry's face. She was startled to see that he looked vulnerable and even a little afraid. Did he really think she would say no? "Oh Harry…" she said again, cursing her brain. Why had it left her now, of all times? It seemed like "Oh Harry" was all she could say.

"Hermione? Could you maybe say something besides my name?"

"I love you," Hermione managed to say. Okay, it wasn't poetic or amazing, but it was a step in the right direction. Hopefully that meant her brain was returning her powers of speech.

It was enough. Harry's face broke into a huge grin. "Really? You do?" he asked excitedly.

"Of course, you big git." She was crying now, but she was laughing too, and then she was throwing her arms around Harry and giving him a huge hug and before she knew it, his lips met hers in a sweet, chaste kiss.

Their future was still full of so many questions, but right then, none of it seemed to matter. They knew that whatever came their way, they would face it together. And for the moment, that was more than enough.

_**The End.**_


End file.
